


Set in Silver

by TinySentenceJournal



Category: Wayward Guide for the Untrained Eye (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, As per I’m putting Desmond tf through it, Child Neglect, Drunken behavior, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, It’s only for like 200 words tho, M/M, This is so self-indulgent I apologize
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:20:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29637303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinySentenceJournal/pseuds/TinySentenceJournal
Summary: A century is a very long time to be lonely. Desmond has to build a future for himself and his family, but his head is still stuck in the past.Self-indulgent soul eye soulmate AU because the desquinn tag is desolate af
Relationships: Desmond Brewer/Quinn Cassidy, Madison Reynolds/Artemis Schue-Horyn (mentioned), Sybilus Silver II/Paul Schue-Horyn (mentioned)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9





	Set in Silver

**Author's Note:**

> This took me nearly 2 months to write but we beat the writer’s block bitches.

Desmond had never particularly been one to settle. He'd grown up a nomad, travelling among the other Connor wolves and the MacMahons from place to place, going all the way from Greenland down to Brazil and back up several times. By the time they had settled in Connor Creek, he was so well travelled his speech pattern alone was nearly unintelligible. 

Yet, in all that time travelling, Desmond still hadn't met his soulmate. The older wolves had assured him that it wasn't something to worry about, he still had several centuries to live and was physically only just an adult. Still, now forever confined to a small town, he had already more or less given up. Besides, he knew his job as the only Connor child was to continue the bloodline, and a soulmate would never provide that for him. There was no room in society for a gay werewolf. 

His family had attempted to get him involved with the MacMahon child, Truman. To an extent, it had worked, they did share a close bond. Truman had two eyes of the same color. Between Desmond having all the straightness of a slinky and Truman's lack of any romantic attraction, they made quite the pair. For once they both had someone to relate to, someone they could trust. 

That was until the shadow wars began. Truman had already warned Desmond there was fighting imminent. Truman's family were far from the peaceful kind. It was a late spring night when the MacMahons disappeared from Connor Creek, not to be heard from for another century. Desmond remembered the row he had with his family. 

"This was the one place they were safe!" 

"They were killing the humans, do you want us all to be exposed and killed?" 

"Not all of them were! Maybe a dozen or so, what about the rest? What about the literal children you've forced to withhold to the moon?" 

"When you're older you'll understand why-" 

"What, when I'm the only one left and they all come back knocking, looking for revenge? Maybe screwing us all over wasn't a good plan?" 

He lost the only friend he'd been allowed that night. Desmond became something of a hermit after that, only talking when necessary. He went out into the woods early in the morning and didn't return until late at night. It took another twenty years before he regained his freedom. His father was killed by hunters mistaking him for an animal, leaving the rest of the pack to fall apart. Some were killed, most left. Desmond was the only one that stayed. The last to go, Wilbur, had given him the keys to the local inn. 

"You sure you want me in charge of this place?" He had asked. 

"Couldn't think of anyone better. No better place to keep a watchful eye over this here town than The Dead Canary." 

"You'll come back and visit right?" Wilbur had paused after that. The only one Desmond still had to look up to after his post-war outburst, the only one who didn't abandon him. 

"I'll try... Listen, son, you're gonna do great things for this town, I know it. This is your chance to do everything, for yourself and everyone else. You can bring progression and unity to this place. I trust you with that, 'kay? And y'know I'll always be looking out for you, even though I'm not gonna be here. Stay on it for me, 'kay kid?" Desmond's throat had gone dry as he finished, willing the tears welling up in his eyes to go away. This was really it, the last person who cared for him was leaving. He nodded, letting Wilbur clap him on the shoulder. The keys were dropped onto the bar for him as Wilbur turned his back, leaving the inn for the last time. He never did come back to Connor Creek.

Desmond didn't know how long he had stayed staring at the door. He blinked several times, trying to refocus his eyes. He wiped away the tears quickly as they slipped. Looking around, he stepped behind the bar. The last time he'd been around the back, he wasn't tall enough to see over the top. He remembered being just a child and sitting on the bar with a cup of apple juice from Wilbur. Now he craved something stronger. Taking a glass and bottle from a shelf, he poured himself some whiskey. He downed it in one. He had always known the start of his new life wouldn't be easy, but more so than he could possibly have imagined, the life he had wanted for years was off to a very lonely start. 

Desmond watched for years as old faces left the town and new ones appeared. Every time he would check the mirror, any sign of the soulmate he desperately craved the company of. Every time his eyes remained the same, his own pale blue eye mismatched with a deep brown one. He tried to get the fulfillment of relationships in the friends he made tending the bar, the fleeting conversations a few times a week barely filling the hole. Until, eventually, his gaping loneliness was filled by a new family, one he hadn't ever intended on having. 

It began with a young man, Sybillus, son of the local banker. A horrific accident had left him mortally wounded. No one had been around to save him. Desmond had watched the terrified boy beg for help. That was the first time he turned a human. Of course, he hadn't been the best of teachers, but at least for their safety he was good enough. As time went on, more people came to town and more accidents occurred. By the time Desmond had hit 100 he had his own pack, a group of misfits he loved more than he'd ever let on. Suddenly the life of Desmond Connor wasn't so lonely. 

But the best day of his life would always be the day he met Quinn Cassidy. A young chef fresh out of culinary school, he'd moved to Connor Creek a few days after Desmond hired him. 

Desmond had already been behind the bar that morning when Quinn arrived for the first time. His head had been under the bar, picking up pieces of glass from a cup he'd dropped and broken. He had yet to have switched the lights on, not needing the lights himself thanks to his wolf abilities. At the time he hadn't noticed the door open and the man step inside, it wasn't until the room was flooded with light he realised he wasn't alone. 

"One sec!" He'd slid out from under the bar and stood, rounding the table to meet the man, "Sorry, I managed to break a glass this early in the morning. I'm Des..." he'd trialed off as he looked the man in the eyes, recognizing them immediately. Two deep brown eyes that were looking as shocked as he was. They'd both made for the mirror at the same time, staring at themselves and then each other. Desmond looked at himself and for the first time saw his two eyes identical. This whole time he'd been searching for someone who hadn't even existed. How had he managed to overlook the possibility of a human soulmate? Maybe he'd just put off the thought out of fear; this was certainly going to make life interesting.

"Well, I guess this is one way to start a job." 

Desmond and Quinn weren't the kind of soulmates that quickly rushed into a relationship as soon as they found each other. It had been awkward at first, and it quickly became clear that Quinn was just as inexperienced with romance as Desmond was himself. They let their partnership evolve into friendship and, eventually, the beginnings of a relationship. One thing played on Desmond's mind though: he was still a werewolf. If they were going to make this work, he needed to come clean, but he didn't even know where to begin with telling Quinn. There was also the issue of still needing to continue the wolf bloodline. Although he was aware he still had a long time yet, it was still something he was yet to figure out. They were just cleaning up one evening when Desmond finally brought it up. 

"I need to tell you something. Well, there's a lot to tell you, actually. You might wanna sit down." Quinn had eyed him worriedly, slowly putting down the pan he had been drying and going to sit down in a booth back in the bar, which was thankfully now empty, "Okay, before I say anything, I need you to promise you'll let me finish speaking before you say anything." 

"You aren't... sick, or anything, right?" 

"No! No, I'm not. Well, kind of? Depends on what you would define as sick. It's easier if I just tell you." 

The next hour was spent with Desmond explaining everything to Quinn. He listened intently, his brow furrowed. Desmond wasn't sure he wanted to know if that was a good thing or not. 

"I mean, I kind of knew something was up. My... Well, your eye kept turning green at night sometimes. I guess that's because of... this?" Desmond nodded, "This is... a lot to take in." 

"I'm sorry. I know this is probably not what you were exactly thinking about in a soulmate. I understand if this isn't something you want to deal-" 

"Shut the fuck up. I don't care what you are. Yes, the idea is gonna take some getting used to, but you're still my soulmate and I trust you. I'm not going anywhere." 

"But, you're gonna grow old and I'm still gonna be the same and I'll outlive you by centuries, doesn't that bother you?" Quinn fell silent for a moment, staring at the table. 

"Could you turn me?" Desmond's eyes snapped up. 

"I am not turning you. What if you change your mind? You can't go back." 

"I'm not going to. I want to be with you. I want us to be able to spend our lives together and not have to worry about you losing me. I've spent my whole life just wanting to find you and be with you. I don't care what it takes. And after hearing everything you just told me, like hell am I letting that opportunity pass us by." 

"You can't just make a decision like this on a whim, Quinn. Do you understand that if you do this, you'll be stuck alive for centuries? You won't be able to be vegetarian anymore. You could never leave Connor Creek for more than a few weeks. You can't come into contact with anything silver anymore. You will have to deal with confrontation, violence, even. It's not as simple as just occasionally turning into a wolf." Quinn's gaze dropped silently, suddenly very interested in a lone grain of salt on the table. 

"Would it make you happy if I took a week to consider it? I'm almost certain I won't change my mind, but I want you to be as sure of this as I am." Desmond studied the man's face. He was really serious about this. He sighed. 

"Fine. I'm not saying I'm gonna be any less uneasy about it by then, but if you're absolutely sure, I'll do it. Okay?" He watched the smile slowly spread across Quinn's face. 

"Okay." 

Desmond had hoped that the other wolves in his pack would've been on his side when he relayed the conversation to them that night. Of course, none of them did. Surprisingly, they were unusually critical when they shared their thoughts. It was weird for him, none of them normally went against anything he had to say. That wasn't so much them fearing crossing him or anything, a vast majority of the time Desmond was about as threatening as a stuffed animal, even in his wolf form. Maybe that was a wakeup call. 

"The thing is, Connor, you're awfully good at talking about the future, but have you even considered the present?" Helen had been the first to question him. 

"What's that supposed to mean?" 

"Well, he's literally your soulmate, you're talking about a future together and he wants to join us right? But have either of you actually made a move? Like, a genuine one?" 

"Well, we... I... no, we haven't." Desmond ran his hands over his face, before dropping his arms to cross them. 

"Well, that would be a start," Olivia interjected. 

"Yeah... the thing is, in case you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly a seasoned veteran in romance, am I?" 

"You're telling me you haven't had a single relationship in your whole life?" Rita asked. Desmond just stared at her, "Wait, what... that was meant to be sarcastic... you've actually never been in a relationship before?" 

"I would genuinely rather take a barrel of silver bullets to the crotch than have this conversation right now." 

He knew they were right, though. Even Madison, who couldn't even be told the full story, agreed with them. There was no point going through with this if one of them didn't make a move. The more he thought about it, the more cloudy his mind got. The very thought of it filled him with excitement, yet simultaneously made him feel like throwing up. It felt childish to him. Having spent so much time in his mindset of only thinking about everyone else, he struggled to process the emotions he suddenly had to confront. 

Desmond was just beginning to close up the bar the night he finally did something about it. It has been three days since the conversation the two of them had had, and besides a couple remarks, neither of them had really mentioned it. It was awkward, but thankfully not as bad as he had feared it would be. He heard the kitchen door swing open and shut again. He reached up to put the last glass back on the top shelf. By the time he turned back around, Quinn was beside him.

"Hey."

"Hey." Desmond dropped the towel in his hand onto the bar, leaning on it as he spoke.

"We're running out of oregano. D'you think you could order some more in?" Desmond nodded.

"Yeah. Yeah, sure. I'll send an order out first thing tomorrow." He looked up at Quinn, who was avoiding his gaze. It had been like this every conversation now. Neither of them seemed to be able to find the nerve to look the other in the eyes. The silence hung thick between them. Desmond wanted to break it, but couldn't find the words to. He'd never been particularly good at expressing himself.

"Are you going out tonight?" Quinn asked. Desmond shook his head.

"The others wanted a break, so we're not meeting tonight." That was the excuse he made up. In reality, the other wolves had called off the meeting with the specific intention of making Desmond and Quinn spend time together, "Do you want a drink?"

"One won't hurt. Thanks." Desmond grabbed two glasses off the shelf. He gestured to the taps, then to the bottles, "I don't mind. I'll have what you have." Sighing, Desmond pulled two beers, handing one to Quinn. He followed him through the back door, upstairs to the living space they shared. Quinn dropped onto the couch, Desmond taking his seat next to him. He took a sip, grimacing as he realised he'd pulled the wrong beer.

"Well this isn't Heineken." He knew the bar like the back of his hand, how had he been so distracted as to pull the wrong beer? Not only that, but the one out of all of the different ones that he couldn't stand? He heard Quinn chuckle beside him.

"It's unusual for you to just have straight beer isn't it? Usually you're mixing all sorts of things together."

"Yeah, well, tonight I just…" he trailed off before he could let his tongue slip. He shook his head, "I don't know, I didn't really feel like having anything strong tonight."

He let Quinn carry the conversation after that, much more comfortable listening than talking. Well, at first he had been listening, until he unintentionally zoned out, focusing on Quinn himself instead of what he was actually saying. He got so excited when he talked about something he was passionate about, always so animated when he explained it. It was cute. He was normally so stressed, always the perfectionist worrying about everything he did. No one else saw this side to Quinn. He wasn't the particularly social type, either.

"Hey, are you still listening to me? You seem kind of spaced out." Desmond was snapped back into consciousness when Quinn's hand brushed his shoulder. It felt like a jolt of electricity had been shot up his arm, "You're smiling, did I do something?"

Desmond didn't answer. By the time he could've come up with a response, Quinn had already clocked him looking at his lips. His eyes glanced back up to Quinn's, and for the first time in days Quinn actually stared back at him. The little beer he'd managed to stomach had done it's magic, taking the edge off his nerves. He leaned towards him, cautiously in case he backed off. But he didn't, Quinn just stayed as he was, relaxed, anticipating Desmond's actions. He stopped a few inches from Quinn's lips, his hand coming up to cup his face.

Only then did he realise exactly what he was doing. He froze, still hovering precariously inches from Quinn. His face burned as he looked away, anywhere but Quinn. He started to lean away, staring into the fire pit, which in retrospect wasn't a good idea when his eyes started aching from the strain of the light.

"S-sorry. I wasn't…"

"Are you kidding me? That close and you're backing out now?" Desmond just barely managed to find the will to look back to Quinn. He was moving, sitting up straight. Desmond just stared blankly as he rolled his eyes, "Well, if you're not gonna do it-"

Quinn cut himself off with his lips on Desmond's. Or maybe, by that logic, Desmond cut Quinn off. He wasn't exactly in a position to think about technicalities. Not that he particularly cared, anyway.

He'd honestly thought he would have no idea what he was doing. And yet, the moment Quinn's lips touched his, it just suddenly felt so  _ right _ . Quinn's arm found his waist as he adjusted his weight to balance himself better. Desmond let his arm slide up around Quinn's neck, fingers brushing gently against the fuzz of hair he found there.

Quinn was the first to pull back, resting his forehead against Desmond's. By the time he had recovered from his dazed state, Quinn was biting his lip through a smirk. It didn't last long until he broke out into laughing breathlessly, still so close that his breath tingled against Desmond's lips. He quickly ended up joining him, chuckling softly.

"What's so funny?" He breathed. Quinn shook his head, smiling.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing." Quinn kissed him again. It was a different kind of intimacy, as desperation to be as close to each other as possible, as if doing so would stop anything ever coming between them. In his haste Quinn lost his balance, falling back and taking Desmond with him. They stayed like that, passionate make out turning to cuddling as Desmond's head rested on Quinn's chest, face nuzzling into his neck.

"You know, you're cute when you smile, you should do it more often," Desmond said. He felt Quinn press a kiss to the top of his head, "I mean, you're cute anyway, just your smile lights up your face."

"Mhm? I guess I'll have to smile more often then." Desmond's arm reached up lazily to wrap around Quinn's neck. His ear right over the center of his chest, he could feel the thump of Quinn's heart against his ear. It was pleasant. Calming. Desmond could easily have stayed there forever.

Quinn's hand gradually dropped to his hair. Desmond had always wondered whether the concept had been all everyone made it out to be. He established that it absolutely was. Gentle, repetitive movement, but not so much so that it felt too uniformed. He felt Quinn's hand trail in no particular pattern. Desmond yawned silently.

"We're gonna have to do this more often if I can actually get you to sleep like this," Quinn said, mimicking Desmond's yawn seconds after him. Desmond nodded tiredly, eyes falling closed.

"Mhm, I wouldn't complain," he shuffled into what hopefully was a more comfortable position for Quinn, "Do you want me to move? I genuinely am falling asleep here."

"Mm, no. We can stay here if you want." He felt Quinn press another kiss to the top of his head, his free arm wrapping tightly around Desmond's waist. It was strange. Having grown up among strong, powerful beings like the Connor wolves, and yet, in the arms of his awkward, human soulmate, he felt more safe and secure than ever. He nodded slowly, feeling himself slip and give way to exhaustion.

"Okay." His voice had barely been more than a mutter. He wondered if Quinn had heard him at all, for all that it mattered. Still, within moments of speaking, he was already out cold in Quinn's arms, sleeping comfortably for the first time in years.

They didn't really 'get together,' per se. They just found each other and let time take them in the right direction. It still baffled Desmond how Quinn could accept him with open arms, and not seem at all repulsed by the less human side of him. It bothered him. He sometimes wondered if Quinn was too naive to the nature of his being, if he'd get in too deep and regret it. To him, Quinn was someone he needed to protect and, although he didn't at all believe Quinn  _ needed  _ protecting, he worried what he was exposing his love to.

"Why aren't you scared of me?" He'd asked one night over the bar. They seemed to always have their serious talks as Desmond cleared up for the night. Quinn had stopped in his tracks, looking confused.

"What do you mean?" Desmond refused to look at him, focusing on a tiny speck that had annoyingly welded itself to the side of the glass he was drying.

"I'm dangerous. I could kill you right here, right now with my bare hands. Sometimes I feel like I'm more animal than person," he gave up on the glass, dropping it down onto the bar and resting his head on his folded arms. When he spoke again, his voice was weak, forced, "How can you look at a monster like me and even think of me as anything but that, never mind care about me?"

Quinn didn't speak. Desmond heard the thud of glass on wood as he put the glass in his hand down. Footsteps sounded behind him. Next thing, warmth encased him as Quinn's arms wrapped around him from behind, holding him tight. He let Quinn pull him closer as he felt his head come to rest on his shoulder.

"Do you seriously see yourself as a monster?" Quinn's voice was little more than a mutter in his ear. He pushed Desmond away from him, spinning him around so he had to look at him, "You the most genuine, compassionate person I know. I have met literal children with more malice in their hearts than you. However you see yourself, I feel safer with you than anywhere else, and some genetic anomaly isn't going to change that. It doesn't make you any less of a person. Okay?"

Desmond collapsed into Quinn's arms, burying his face in the crook of his neck. He hadn't realised how badly he needed to hear someone say that. The isolation he'd experienced his whole life had taken a toll on him he hadn't even noticed. It was a relief. Quinn was gradually breaking away at walls Desmond hadn't even realised he'd put up, and it took weight off his shoulders he hadn't even noticed was there.

"Also, you cried for half an hour yesterday after stepping on a snail. It's pretty hard to see you as a monster after that." Desmond laughed softly at that, pulling back with a smile on his face. His hand went to caress Quinn's cheek, but at a moment of hesitation, fell to his neck instead. Skin still unmarked, Desmond still feared the commitment. He didn't want Quinn to regret his decision. There was no cure for lycanthropy. 

"Are you still sure about…" he trailed off, sighing, "Quinn, I'm not gonna keep it from you again, I want it too. I want to have you by my side for the rest of my life. But the thought of it is just so terrifying to me. I'm scared if you make the commitment you'll regret it, or you'll get hurt. I… I haven't had anyone I've ever held so closely before. I'm terrified if I do this you'll get hurt, or you'll regret it and push me away. And I know it sounds selfish, but I can't… I can't face the thought of being abandoned again."

He hadn't realised he'd been shaking until Quinn pulled him back against him. Quinn's face buried in his hair, Desmond could hear his heartbeat as he rested his head on his shoulder.

"I can't tell you what it'll be like for me as one of you. But whatever it is, I couldn't ever regret being with you. You're stuck with me now, however many issues come our way. No amount of danger or sacrifice could make me regret being with you, whatever it takes."

"I love you." The words slipped past his lips before Desmond could stop them. For a moment he panicked, trying to decide between staying where he was and running off, deciding he couldn't run away from Quinn again. He watched Quinn's face as it went from stunned to the most beaming smile Desmond had seen from him.

"I love you too." Desmond was sure Quinn must've felt him relax. He felt him press his lips to his forehead before resting his own against it. Even with enhanced hearing, the only sounds were their breathing and the gentle tapping against the window. Desmond eyed the glass through the corner of his eye. Apparently it had started raining. Desmond opened his mouth to speak, only for Quinn to cut him off before anything could leave his mouth, "Before you ask again, yes, I'm sure." Desmond nodded as he backed away.

Even having lived with it his whole life, the tingling sensation in his gums as his fangs grew was never pleasant. Maybe that was why he didn't usually spend much time in his in-between form. It was much easier to just either have fangs or not have them, without constantly having to deform and regrow them. He turned back around to Quinn snickering at him.

"What?"

"I don't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't for you to start glowing pink." Quinn did very little to hide his laugh as Desmond rolled his eyes.

"I wasn't expecting you to use your ever-dry sense of humor to cope with nerves, guess we're both full of surprises tonight." The dryness in his own voice could've towelled off the Titanic, but he smiled nonetheless. He approached Quinn, gently tilting his head to the side to expose his neck, "I'm not gonna sugarcoat it, this is gonna hurt."

"I know." Quinn almost hid the tinge of fear from his voice. Desmond locked eyes with him for reassurance. In human form, Quinn was slightly taller than him, but now he towered over him by a good few inches. Quinn nodded, "Do it."

Desmond had been quite lucky to have been born a werewolf. By that, he meant he'd never had to experience being turned first-hand. Still, the emotional pain that knived him as Quinn writhed in pain in his arms as his genetics rearranged themselves wasn't exactly favorable. It had been hard to watch the other wolves as he'd turned them, but to watch Quinn go through it was an entirely different experience. Quinn himself had ended up biting down on Desmond's shoulder to try and stop himself from screaming, which proved increasingly painful for Desmond as Quinn's fangs started materializing.

Eventually, with a groan of pain, Quinn slumped against him. Desmond watched as the bite mark of his turning on Quinn's neck stayed its bleeding all on its own, as the very edges of the wound began knitting themselves back together. Desmond wiped the drying blood from Quinn's neck. He had to carry his barely-conscious soulmate upstairs and to bed, taking him to his own as it was closer. He laid Quinn down, staying down by his side as he very quickly fell into complete unconsciousness. For all the borderline traumatizing experience it was, pain did wonders in exhausting the body.

Quietly, Desmond slipped out of the room and back downstairs. Thankfully, he'd gotten Helen to put certain numbers on the inn's phone on speed dial, which meant jack shit to Desmond except he didn't have to work out how to manually put numbers in. Picking it up, he listened to the dial tone as he waited for an answer.

"Vern speaking…" The man sounded drowsy, like he'd just woken up.

"Sorry it's late, Vern, it's Desmond. I know it's short notice, but do you think you could do me something for, say, midday tomorrow? Nothing big, just enough for one."

"Something happened, Desmond? Everything alright?"

"Fine, yeah, everything's fine, just uh… I turned Quinn." Desmond held his breath as the line went quiet.

"...Well it took ya long enough. Alright, I'll get it sorted first thing in the morning. Don't worry about paying, I can cover this for him."

"You don't have to-"

"-I know, you said that last time. Don't worry about it."

"Thank you." Desmond breathed. Hooking the phone back onto the wall, he returned upstairs to his room. He sunk down into the nearby chair, watching Quinn carefully, just checking again he was alright. A quiet mumble caught his attention as Quinn stirred.

"Des?" Desmond got up from his chair, crouching down so he was eye level with Quinn.

"You okay?" Quinn nodded tiredly. He reached out and grabbed Desmond's arm, pulling with what little strength his exhausted body had.

"C'mere." Desmond crawled into bed next to him, kicking off his shoes in the process. He pulled Quinn to him, his head rested on Desmond's chest. He waited for Quinn to fall asleep again before he let his own exhaustion claim him.

Growing up alone had been hard. Spending so much time alone to then raise a whole pack of werewolves was even harder. With Quinn it wasn't like that. With him pretty much always by his side, Desmond was much more able to let Quinn figure things out for himself while he watched over him. Strangely, the distance brought them closer.

Months passed as uneventfully as they could for a pair of werewolves. Quinn had more or less completely gotten the hang of life as one, and Desmond was all the more relaxed for no longer having to hide himself or lie to him. For once, everything was going well.

They were opening up one morning when the phone rang. Quinn got to it first, leaving Desmond to do a last tidy up.

"Dead Canary. Yeah, he's right here, hold on…" Desmond looked up as Quinn passed him the phone, "It's yours." Frowning, Desmond put the phone up to his ear. No one called this early.

"Hello?"

"Desmond? It's Truman. Truman MacMahon. I… got news, you were running the inn now." Desmond paused in shock. Quinn eyed him in concern.

"Oh. Uh… hi?"

"I don't know why I decided to call now. I just need… closure or something, I guess."

"Closure? What happened?" He heard a sigh on the other end.

"What didn't happen? Look, I want to talk to you, properly. If I came back to Connor Creek, would I be welcome? I know my family was-"

"Yes. Absolutely." There was another awkward pause. God, how the hell did people just pick up with old friendships after years apart?

"Thank you. I'll see you soon, then."

Truman arrived a few weeks later under the surname Hensley. The two of them went out into the woods alone during the day while Quinn took over the Dead Canary for a few hours.

"So…" Desmond began slowly, cursing himself internally for deciding to spontaneously start a conversation he wasn't sure he was ready for, "You said you wanted closure?" Truman stopped in her tracks, staring up at him. She hadn't changed all that much since they were kids, at least from what he remembered. There was a coldness in her stare though now, the warmth he remembered so fondly finding in her smile barely existent.

"Tell me you didn't side with them." Desmond cringed internally, remembering how she'd been treated, how he'd been treated not long after, "You were always critical of your father's black and white attitude, tell me you didn't want to sentence us to centuries of suffering like he did."

"I didn't." He said, quietly, "I didn't even know about it until it was too late. The night I found out what had happened, I had an... argument… with my father and some of the others. He disowned me. Most of them did. By the time I could do anything at all, there was no chance I'd ever find you anyway. This whole time, I've never forgotten. I've always wondered where you were, if maybe you'd found another home. Sometimes I'd wonder about the worst. That always ate me up inside. I guess I'm just lucky you found me."

"I missed you." Desmond locked eyes with her again, a small smile on his face. Her brow furrowed, "I've only just realised, you've found your soulmate, haven't you?"

"Mhm, it's Quinn, the other guy at the Dead Canary."

"Good. I'm glad after all the worrying you did you got to settle down." Desmond nodded. Truman went to sit down, her back to a tree. Desmond copied her, finding the easiest one to face her from.

"What about you? What happened after…"

"Well, we ended up scattered around the country. A lot of people got tired of my father's attitude towards the pack as a whole, so people just stopped following until there was no one left. I personally went to New York for a while, then moved to Chicago when technology started really taking off a couple decades ago. I've been doing politics since. I think I might be getting ready to go in a new direction though, soon. Constant pressure and fighting with people gets tiresome after about thirty years. I'm thinking of properly settling down. I'm not sure where yet, though."

"Well, you're always welcome back here." Truman smiled and, for a moment, Desmond could feel the warmth he remembered in her.

Truman only stayed a couple nights. On her way out she promised she'd return in some way or another. Desmond ran alongside her car as she drove away through the town, watching her leave down the long mud road that eventually led to the highway. He felt a certain weight off his shoulders. Though Truman had been the one seeking closure, he had gotten his own in their resolution, and he was all the more at peace for it.

Fall came around quickly that year. Desmond was glad, it was his favourite season. The animals in the forest were always more lively in the fall, busy preparing for winter. They had provided him with a sense of comfort in his youth, and now they provided a beauty he better appreciated in his adulthood. Spring and fall were always the better seasons, and he often wondered why anyone would prefer summer or winter.

Quinn liked fall, too, he found. He complained it was too warm in the summer, too cold in the winter (Desmond shared this sentiment, however it was very entertaining to watch Odie Doty get pelted with snowballs each year). Almost every day after lunch they'd lock up for a few hours and enjoy each other's company in the woods.

The winter chill was starting to set in the night Desmond got a little too drunk. In his defense, he hadn't realised Quinn had already made him a drink, and bartender though he may be, he couldn't hold his liquor to save his life. Two empty glasses that would've been too full just as one drink now sat on the table opposite the couch. Desmond had somehow ended up laid across said furniture with his head hanging upside-down off the seat. Quinn had opted for the chair. He was, luckily, much better at holding his liquor and despite having drunk the same amount, was only a little tipsy.

"The fuck am I gonna do, Quinn?"

"Excuse me?" Desmond looked over at Quinn, just about noting the intrigued expression on his face. He'd later learn that alcohol messed with his wolf genetics, and his fangs had been out all night. He was thankful he didn't often get drunk in front of people.

"How am I supposed to continue the Connor bloodline? Not that I actually care about anything to do with my family, but it's still my responsibility to make sure there's still a werewolf lineage after me. Call it primal instinct, I guess." Desmond lifted his head back up onto the couch. The blood rushing to his head had been making it spin more than the alcohol was already doing.

"Do you  _ want _ children?" Desmond hadn't actually mentioned children before outside of the Connor bloodline. In fairness, he was rather busy running an inn, leading a pack of wolves, and dealing with his own personal affairs. He rarely had time to think that far ahead.

"'Course I do. But it's not physically possible, is it? That's the problem."

"Have you not considered a surrogate?" Desmond blinked.

"A what?" Quinn stood up, taking one of the whiskey glasses from the table. He disappeared out the door and returned moments later, the glass now full of water. He pulled Desmond to a sitting position and pushed the glass into his hands. Desmond took a wary sip.

"You know what? This would be a much better discussion to have when you're sober." Desmond nodded, his head already starting to twinge with the beginnings of what he could already tell was going to be a horrific hangover.

"Mmm… fuck, I'm gonna regret this in the morning."

And he did. It was a good job Quinn was so skilled in hangover remedies, because from the moment he woke up Desmond felt like he'd broken his skull (which he knew from personal experience in Mexico, was not a recommended activity). Quinn had to relay the conversation they'd had to him as well, not remembering enough to piece anything together. He also explained exactly what a surrogate was. Apparently no one bothered to tell him it was no longer classed as adultery, or that it had a name. Still, he shrugged it off.

"It doesn't matter right now. I have ages yet. Sorry, I shouldn't have dropped that on you last night, even if I don't have any recollection of it." Quinn pulled him so he was laid with his head on his chest. Desmond closed his eyes, half in content, half because his head was pounding and the light was painful.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm glad you told me, even if you didn't mean to. You take on so much responsibility for absolutely everything, I honestly prefer that you let me know what's bothering you." Desmond almost fell back asleep laid there. It wasn't until the realization hit him that it was still, very much, a working day, he scrambled to get up.

"Shit, I need to open up the bar before Henry comes in. Madison usually drops in early when there's-"

"Des, I've already sorted it. I called Helen to come help me open up earlier. It's a Thursday, so everyone'll be at the town council meeting anyway. Please get some rest for once."

"I love you," he managed to mumble before his exhaustion was realised and he dropped back to sleep.

The subject wasn't brought back up again after that. As much as they had failed so far, Desmond was determined for the two of them to take it relatively slowly. Of course, that didn't last much past spring.

Quinn had been acting… unusually, for quite a while now. Maybe a month? Desmond couldn't pinpoint when it started. There wasn't exactly a drastic change in Quinn's actions, he was still the same hyper-passionate, yet somehow also level-headed man he loved. He just seemed as if he was hiding something from him. Desmond was weary of people who hid secrets from others, especially when it was his soulmate keeping something from him.

He noticed it too in the other wolves, particularly Sybilus and Rita. He had questioned them on it, but they insisted there was nothing to tell. That was until yet another fateful routine closing up of the bar after hours.

Quinn had only been trying to help him tidy up before they locked up for the night. Desmond had been lent on the bar facing Quinn as he bent down to put a glass away. He heard the light thud of metal on wood before he saw its source. By the time Quinn had processed what had happened and looked up, Desmond had already located the source of the sound and was going between staring at it and Quinn.

The ring was a simple band, silver in colour though obviously not in material. A subtle wave pattern ran along one side, and in the middle, a small off-center square of green stone. Desmond looked up to see Quinn's face coloured with embarrassment as he scrambled for something to say.

"This- this isn't what it looks like? Fucking damn it, it's exactly what it looks like. I swear I wasn't planning on doing it behind the bar, or dropping it… shit, I'm an idiot, why didn't I just-"

"Yes." Desmond's throat was dry and seizing up from the emotion that hit him. Quinn stares up at him, shock vaguely crossing his mortified face.

"Huh?"

"I said yes." Desmond quickly buried his face in his shirt, drying his eyes before he started crying. He cleared his throat, "You said you wanted a fall wedding, right? I know spring would play hell with your allergies." Quinn sighed, picking the ring up off the floor. A small smile crossed his face. He took Desmond's hand, pushing the ring onto his finger. Desmond pulled Quinn in to kiss him, his arms wrapped comfortably around his neck. He pulled back, resting his head on Quinn's shoulder.

"Well, not exactly the most conventional, but it worked, I guess." Desmond laughed, pulling back to look at Quinn. A full grin was spread across his face now.

"Isn't that just our relationship as a whole, though?" Quinn huffed a laugh and nodded.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

They never bothered calling themselves fiances. Neither of them particularly liked the term. They were just husbands, whether it was legal or not. In fairness, Connor Creek was already pretty detached from the outside world anyway, and with about 60% of the town being very much not straight, nobody had any qualms with them getting married. They weren't going anywhere any time soon anyway.

"The stone's jade, if you were wondering. Which, I know you have been, because you barely stop staring at it." Desmond looked up from his spot laid across Quinn's lap.

"The symbol of purity? Awfully ironic." He smirked. Quinn shook his head, smiling.

"That was a thought I had, too, but that's not why I chose it," Quinn's fingers tangled in Desmond's hair, "When I first got my soul eye, everyone pointed out how it changed color. Naturally, because people are uncreative assholes, they all described it as emerald color."

"Clearly whoever you were surrounding yourself with didn't know their gemstones. Totally the wrong color."

"Morons, I know. Anyway, I never saw it that way. Whenever I looked at it, I thought it looked like jade. I had a little fake jade dog some cousin I'll probably never see again gave me years ago. That's the coloring I associated with it. So, I started associating you with jade, before we even met. And then, when you told me you were a werewolf, I actually found it quite funny, given the whole reason I started associating you with it was because of a little glass dog."

"We really are the walking embodiment of irony, aren't we?" Desmond laughed. He took Quinn's hand and pulled it to his lips, kissing his palm, "That's really sweet though, you know?" He cuddled further into Quinn, his arm wrapped around Quinn's waist as he leaned into his stomach. He was always baffled as to how one man could consistently be so  _ warm. _

They married when fall came around, a small affair on the edge of the woods. That being, the entire town came, but there were still barely thirty people in attendance. Madison officiated. Desmond then made the life-changing discovery of white chocolate. As funny as it was to tease Desmond about his wolf-like qualities ("I'm half wolf, Rita, what were you expecting?"), admittedly he did wish he wasn't deathly allergic to the normal kind.

"So I'm putting white hot chocolate on the menu then?"

"Bold of you to assume there'll be any left to put on the menu."

Truman moved back to Connor Creek a few months later. She took on a leading role in the town council, hoping to keep power out of corrupt hands should they ever come knocking. And, of course, they did. After some inquiries about the local silver mines, a small group of young entrepreneurs suddenly moved to Connor Creek without any warning. As it turned out, they were MacMahon wolves, seeking revenge. Thankfully between them, Desmond and Truman had them shut down before anything got too out of hand.

The only cost had been their secrecy to Madison, and the human life of a completely unrelated visitor. The Schue-Horyn twins had only come to record a podcast on the history of the mines. Thanks to the MacMahons, Paul was now stranded in Connor Creek as a half-werewolf. He fit in well enough with the pack, but it still made Desmond and Truman feel incredibly guilty they couldn't have spared the life he had before.

No one was surprised when it got out that Paul and Sybilus became a thing less than a month into Paul's permanent move to the town. The main focus, though, had been trying to get Artemis and Madison together, which was a painful process, because of them were possibly the densest people Desmond knew. Thank fuck for Rita, who's on-brand bluntness was the eventual solution to getting them together, after months of them denying the other even liked them.

Desmond and Quinn, however hard they tried, were still completely useless at taking things slowly. Despite both of them having several centuries left to live, they decided on having a child within two years of marriage. Madison ended up driving them out to the city, which was an eventful experience, as Desmond hadn't been to a city in over a hundred years and needless to say, things had changed a lot. It was pretty hard for anyone to get him to focus for more than a few minutes. Madison at one point did threaten to get a dog whistle if he didn't start paying attention more.

They welcomed baby Elijah Connor on October 31st. Ironic, if only because it was the only Halloween in his life that Desmond had actually been remotely terrified. The young boy was basically a mini Desmond, though as he grew he picked up Quinn's passion and snarky personality. He never considered his feelings could get deeper for Quinn after they married, but a running theme of him being proved wrong continued as he found Quinn to be incredible with children, even if he now complained he had 'two kitchen disasters to juggle at all times.'

Life was never perfect. He still took on an ungodly amount of responsibility. He still had a bad habit of forcing himself beyond exhaustion. He still had to hide most of his life from the world. But despite the struggles, all the hardship they faced as a pack, his far from conventional relationship, Desmond had found happiness in the family he had made himself. Their close-knit, dysfunctional group of dumbasses whom he loved so much.

Life was far from perfect, but for Desmond Connor, it was good enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay I’m a aware there’s a plot inconsistency in the whole surrogate child thing. Pretend there isn’t because I didn’t like the idea of any of the wolves being a surrogate lmao. Dug my own grave there.


End file.
